Now at Oceanside, I walk inside the group of trainees. Michonne and Judith are to my left while my son and Wren stalks to my right. I have one of my swords within my hand, lying lazily across my shoulders. Kellin's dual tomahawks rest in his grasp. Wren took a page out of Negan's book, wrapping her own baseball bat with barbed wire; she playfully calls it 'Lucifer'. Behind me, the archers march with Caroline in the middle, her bow and arrow tight within her grip. The group of trainees welding spears separates us, the melee's, and Aaron with his merry band of shield wielders, with a metal buffer littered in spikes.
Keeping my leather pants, I traded in my coat for a simple onyx camisole and fingerless black gloves. My combat boots crush the sand on the ground below me. My short hair is tied back with a bandanna, not allowing any fly aways from obstructing my view. Abraham's dog tags still rest around my neck, clacking with every move I make.
It's been several months since I returned to Alexandria with my own family. Sometimes, I still find myself awaiting Rick to stalk up to me while I'm outside smoking my morning cigarette and drinking coffee. I don't think I'll ever get used to the idea that our fearless is leader is gone. I still wish that he was there with my rescue team. I know he would've stopped at nothing to bring me home, but his disappearance could've been what prolonged my stay with the devil. From my understanding, everyone was scrambling to comprehend losing not only Rick, but myself as well.
I just wish I was there for the fallout; maybe, just maybe, Rick would still be here, too. Maybe, I could've saved him. However, I can't cling to the 'what-if's', not in this world. We just gotta keep moving; keep surviving until something or someone finally takes us from this plane of existence. None of us are invincible.
My eyes flick towards Daryl stalking on the outskirts of the group, his unwavering focus trained on Caroline and Kellin. He's watched our twins train, but he's never seen them in action against walkers. I smirk at that thought and at the memories trickling through my subconscious. I've raised two little badasses. I firmly believe that while yes, they've been training since they were barely out of diapers, but they wouldn't fully understand the dangers of this world; so every once in awhile, Charlee and I would have them accompany us on a run. They moved against the dead exactly as they've been taught, and they work together as one. My tiny cunning and deadly Dixon's.
I return my attention towards King Ezekiel and Jerry as they release a walker dripping with seaweed. I zero in on every little move it makes as it stumbles towards to our little group of trainees.
"And halt. Drop. Archers." Aaron's clipped words slip into the air around us.
Without hesitation, I drop to my knee, feeling Caroline's arrow sing through the air as dances with the others, meeting its mark. The sound of the dead falling to the ground in a heap mingle in the air with the tones of the waves crashing onto the beach.
As Aaron and the other shield holders separate, I return to standing upright with Kellin following my lead with swift fluid motions. "Retrieve!" Aaron bellows. Two of members from the community where we are currently stationed at rush through, reclaiming their lost bolts. Within moments, they are darting back through the crowd, returning to their position. "Right and march."
"Archers, regroup. Formation." I let my own voice tear through the wind while Jerry and Zeke open the door of the desolate building, allowing more of the dead to stumble upon us.
"And halt," Aaron demands, "spears." The group between us shoves their bodies between the crowd gripping the deadly shields, "thrust!" The moans of the dead are cut off abruptly as the blades are jabbed through the bone and brain matter of the walking corpses. "And halt."
As if on cue, the duo once again open the door for the third wave of the walkers. "Open ranks." I order while they clear a path for us. Following Michonne out, I twirl my single sword within my hands, Kellin and Wren at my side, with Magna and Luke stepping out behind us. I barrel ahead, spotting a corpse stumbling behind the group of the dead, I throw myself into a front flip. Before landing, I remove its head from his shoulders before I touch down on the ground and sand below me. Feeling the wind rush up behind me, I duck as another corpse falls to my feet. I grin, noticing Kellin's tomahawk lodged in its head.
In the corner of my eye, I observe Wren swinging, taking a chunk of brains, flesh, and bone out of the walker closest to her, covering her tiny frame with blood.
The sounds of a struggle drags my awareness towards Jerry and The King where they find themselves in a bit of a jam." "Shit," I breathe out. I cast a worried glance in Michonne's direction. It's about to be one hell of a party of the dead. This might be a true test to what we've been training for.
She nods at me before turning to everyone else, "it's about to get real, y'all. Everyone, steady."
Moments later, the dilapidated wall of the battered building falls. The thud loud swirling in the air around us, quickly followed by the moans and groans of the dead as they begin to descend on us.
"Fan out!" Aaron growls.
"Hey, stay in your formations!" Michonne warns, "Remember your trainin'!"
I send a cheeky grin to my son at my side, "remember what we practiced," I whisper, getting to my knees. I cup my hands as his feet step onto the makeshift foothold. I stand quickly, tossing my son towards one of the dead while my daughter fumbles for the knives around my belt, rushing in after her brother. She tosses several of my blades, silencing the walkers before her brother drags his tomahawk down, locking it in the skull of one of the corpses, and throwing his second at the other behind the one he had just killed. Fear slices my soul as I see one of the dead creeping up on my children when they reunite on the ground, without thinking, I throw my sword, watching it embed itself into its eye socket, dropping it before it could reach my babies.
Suddenly, as soon as it starts, it ends.
Panting, I steal a glance at Daryl who seems to be staring at the twins in a new light. I wasn't pulling anyone's legs. I've trained them, and I've trained them well. Maybe even well enough that Kelly would've shed a tear in pride. When I told Alpha my children could kill her without hesitating, or blinking, I wasn't exaggerating. They are as deadly and lethal as the swords I bare on my back.
I uncap the water bottle, draining it of its contents in a few short gulps, returning my attention to my children, observing Luke approach them. I use the back of my hand to wipe the sweat dripping from my flesh. Maybe I should've worn shorts, instead.
Yes, mom, even after all these years, I still enjoy wearing black while the sun beats harshly against me. I still haven't learned my lesson, I silently muse to myself. I know if she was here, I wouldn't hear the end of 'why are you wearing leather pants in the middle of summer?' Because I'm a glutton for punishment, apparently.
"Hey, I gotta ask," I listen to Luke face the twins. They watch him curiously as he comes to stop in front of him, "you weren't scared when the walkers came at us like that. Instead, you ran right into them. How?! I know I still get scared, sometimes..." he trails off.
Caroline smirks while Kellin shrugs, "mommy always said there's no reason to be scared unless she's scared." My daughter answers the plump man. "We don't know how the world used to be."
"This is all we know." Kellin whispers.
Luke nods, lost in thought, "that makes sense. Your mom is very brave."
"They are still as wise as their mama," I spin around the sound of The King's voice, grinning. "But they are getting bigger as the days go by." He wraps his arms around me, "I've missed you, my Phoenix," he whispers into my ear.
I pull away, smile still painting my face. "Feelings mutual, dear friend," I offer. "It's good to see you, Zeke."
"I heard you've been threatening people at Alexandria. Good to see nothing has changed," he chuckles.
"I'm a charmer, what can I say?"
"Michonne mentioned that you and this new doctor don't see eye to eye."
"Dante, what the hell is wrong with you?" I follow him into the office of the infirmary. 'Sheila came in worse than she was earlier," I chastise. The dark haired male turns, lips twitching in annoyance. "You fucked up her diagnosis, and gave her the wrong meds. Did you get your degree out of a fucking cereal box?!" It hasn't escaped my notice that the patients have seemingly grown sicker since he took up residency in our community.
The flash of anger flares his nostrils before replacing it with his usual award winning grin, "you aren't even a doctor. You have no place in his office, lady. Weren't you some under paid waitress or something?"
"Not even close," I growl, trying to reign in my frustration.
He throws his hand up in surrender, "sorry, hair stylist. So no credentials for this office, let alone, there's no reason you should've survived this long. Since there's no place for you in the apocalypse, shouldn't you be long dead? Right, you have Daryl and company to protect you."
My eyes grow wide, feeling my fingers tighten around the knife perched on my hip, "excuse me?"
Fingers brush against mine, gently pulling my hands from the pointy object that's begging to be covered in his blood. "Blue," Daryl warns. "Watch how ya talk to my wife before she makes ya realize why she's alive." Dante chuckles before stalking by us, making a point to shoulder check me, causing my skin to crawl and my blood to boil at a dangerous level. "He ain't worth it," my husband reminds me just as he does every time Dante gets under my flesh.
"I don't trust him. Something isn't right," I breathe out.
"I know, Vanessa." Daryl offers.
I bow my head, cursing the image of our newcomer invading my mind. "Yeah, he makes my ass itch." Shrugging, "he doesn't like a female coming into the office to help, making sexist comments and the like. So I make his life a living hell when we work together." I still volunteer at the infirmary because Siddiq trusts me and knows how I work; we both agree that Dante is a little too fishy for our comfort. Dante doesn't like my attitude, which is fair, but I don't like how he treats some of our patients. Something about the man makes my skin crawl. Paranoia and I are besties, now. Sorry, Negan. "Anyway, how are you, really?"
Something unreadable flashes through Ezekiel's dark eyes before plastering a smile on his face, "I'm as good as I can be. I'm alive," he spreads his arms.
I click my tongue against my teeth, wanting to push him further. He's keeping something from me, and that also makes my ass itch. Before I could question him, Caroline's frantic shouts for my attention makes the hair on my skin stand at attention. I whirl around, spotting something inside Judith's grip.
"Mommy! The bad people are back!" Kellin yells.
The skins.